


this place is a shelter

by talewind



Series: living room songs [1]
Category: Moonlight (2016)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 00:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20826185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talewind/pseuds/talewind
Summary: His mother lunges—then she isn’t his mother, she’s Kevin, and he reels from the crack of his fist across his face. His head crashes into the linoleum floor. He opens his eyes, and Juan looks back at him. He smashes his head into—the ocean, where the kitchen floor was. And he holds his head there. And Chiron jolts awake with a gulp of breath.





	this place is a shelter

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Moonlight for the first time over the weekend, got inspired, and churned this out.
> 
> TW: Briefly depicts non-explicit sexual assault between two minors in a nightmare. The depiction is contained fully within the paragraph that begins with "His mother lunges". An instance of the f-slur occurs in the paragraph that begins with "Chiron feels the mattress shift".
> 
> Title comes from the [song of the same name](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMSDPLOSHyQ) by Ólafur Arnalds.

Violent neon pink against dark blue-green walls. A chilling glare. Screaming—_“DON’T LOOK AT ME!” _

Little averts his eyes, then glares back defiantly from under his brow.

His mother lunges—then she isn’t his mother, she’s Kevin, and Chiron reels from the crack of his fist across his face. Cackles drift through the air from somewhere behind Kevin. Chiron stumbles back to his feet only to meet another fist. His head crashes into the kitchen counter, then the linoleum floor. And then Kevin is on top of him, straddling him, pinning his arms to the floor. “Stay down,” he sneers. And he pushes his lips onto Chiron’s.

And Chiron rolls, throwing Kevin onto the floor, reversing their positions, and slams his fist into Kevin’s—Terrel’s—nose. It cracks, and blood pours. And Chiron punches Terrel-Kevin again. And again. The pink and blue-green of the hallway become flashing red and blue. Then Black gets thrown back onto the floor, aching, his eyes squeezing shut. He opens them, and Juan looks back at him, blood running down his face. Juan holds Black’s face in his hands. His grip tightens, and he smashes Black’s head into—the ocean, where the kitchen floor was. And he holds his head there. Black’s lungs scream, cold water rushes into his mouth and nose. Distorted through the water, Juan’s face is impassive. Black thrashes, and Juan shoves him deeper. He thrashes again. Then he spasms. Juan ducks his head closer to the water. Black sees his mouth moving, but hears someone else’s voice whispering urgently, “Chiron? Chiron!”

And Chiron jolts awake with a gulp of breath. “Chiron, hey, you—” He jerks away from and bats at the hands on his shoulder and arm. “Hey! Hey, relax!” Slivers of porchlight pierce through the blinds over the window, and he registers that he’s on an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. “Chiron—” A hand reaches for his shoulder again; Chiron backhands it and pushes himself up and turns on its owner, nostrils flaring, heart pounding, ready to do worse.

And he sees Kevin. Grown Kevin. Who called him. Who he drove down here to visit. Who fed him, offered him a place to stay. Who...

Kevin is sitting up in the bed, his hands in front of him, palms out. “Just breathe, man,” he says softly. His dark eyes, locked on Chiron’s, are tired and wary and...sad. And afraid. It’s a different fear than the one that was in his eyes on that day at school a decade ago. “Breathe,” Chiron hears him repeat.

It’s difficult, with his racing heart, to take a very deep breath. But he tries. And then he takes a second ragged breath. And he puts his hands over his face and curls in on himself.

Chiron feels the mattress shift, then stop. Then he feels a hand gently, carefully rest on his shoulder. He starts to pull away, but then doesn’t have the energy to follow through. Slowly, as if waiting every step of the way to see if he’ll stop him, Kevin wraps himself around Chiron’s back and side and leans his head against his shoulder. Part of Chiron, briefly, wants to wrench away—he’s not a kid—he doesn’t want pity—he’s not a _ faggot_—_he doesn’t deserve this_. But a desperate need spreads through his being from where Kevin’s bare skin meets his own. He hesitates only a moment before leaning into the embrace, then melting into it. He scrapes his eyes with the heels of his hands, and they come away wet. Chiron turns, and embraces Kevin back, holds him like he’s afraid Kevin will find a reason to end this here and now (and he _ is_).

Kevin doesn’t say anything about the tremor in Chiron’s shoulders, or the dampness he feels on his cheek, or Chiron’s twisting and twitching and half-murmuring as he slept. He doesn’t ask any questions, any _ what_s or _ how_s or _ why_s. He stays, and he holds Chiron tight. Chiron’s breath hitches when Kevin starts rubbing his back.

And they keep holding each other, listening to their breath, the far-off traffic, the not-too-distant crashing of the surf.


End file.
